


You are beautiful.

by LadySkywalker77



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Art Student Rey, Ben Solo Cries During Sex, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Love Confessions, Rey Also Cries During Sex, Rey is going to hug him, Self-Esteem Issues, Smut, This is very emotional, Unbeta'd, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26235154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySkywalker77/pseuds/LadySkywalker77
Summary: "Art student Rey wants to draw her friend Ben's portrait for an assignment. Ben doesn't understand why she would want to waste her talents on him."A little one-shot in which Ben has self-esteem issues and Rey needs to convince him that he's actually beautiful.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 25
Kudos: 195





	You are beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! I've been working on this one-shot for a while. I've never written smut before so I'm a little nervous but oh well, here goes nothing!

“She’s got purple hair and she’s super sweet but also exudes Big Dick Energy. I already love her,” she says as she stuffs a handful of leftover chocolate chips into her mouth.

“When’s that class again?”

“10:00 to 11:30 on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

He hums as he puts the cookies in the oven. If it were up to her, she’d eat them as soon as they’re out. But Ben won’t let her, because "eating baked goods straight out of the oven can give you a stomachache.” What nonsense.

“But anyway, she left us an assignment already. I’m supposed to draw a portrait and I was wondering if you’d be willing to let me draw you?”

He stills, gripping the oven handle so hard his knuckles turn white.

_Okay?_ Not the reaction she was expecting.

“I’d probably just need about two hours to get it done. It’s just a pencil portrait. Nothing fancy like paint or anything. All you’d have to do is sit there. You can be watching a movie or something if you like, just as long as you don’t move too much,” she chuckles, but there is no real humor to it. She just doesn’t want him to say no.

“But why?” He asks, his body finally turning to her but he doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Well, it’s just an assignment. An icebreaker for the rest of the semester, if you will. I’m supposed to try and draw a portrait of someone I know. Preferably without using a picture as a reference,” she says. “It’s relatively easy to draw portraits using a photo, but doing it with a person in front of you allows you to perceive them better. That’s what Professor Holdo said anyway. I’d like to try it. Plus, I don’t have any good pictures of you to draw.”

She bites her lips as she waits for him to respond. His gaze is still glued to the floor.

“But why me?” he asks quietly. She furrows her brow.

“I—” she begins, but she doesn’t know how to answer. She doesn’t tell him that she’s secretly always wanted to draw a portrait of him. That her hand itches to try to capture his face. “I don’t know. I guess I’d just thought I’d ask for your help. I didn’t think you’d mind, to be honest. I can ask someone else though, if you don’t want to.”

She tries to hide the disappointment from her voice. And maybe, if she were talking to anyone else, she might have succeeded. But this is Ben. He has always been able to read her like a book.

“I just…” he begins. “I think your time would be better spent drawing someone else.”

Wait. _What?_

The confusion on her face must be obvious because the next thing she knows Ben is huffing as he turns to the sink, turning the tab to begin doing the dishes.

“You’re ridiculously talented. You know that. I just don’t feel...” he waves his hand in the air like he always does when he can’t find the words to express himself. “I don’t know, comfortable, with the idea of you wasting your talent on _me_.”

“W—what?” He may as well be speaking Mandarin because the words that just came out of his mouth don’t make sense.

Ben is still facing away from her. She sees the way his shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. But he doesn’t say anything else.

“What do you mean _wasted_ on you?” She doesn’t understand. She needs to understand.

He turns the tap off. The silence of the room is deafening. “Come on Rey, you know what I mean. You are an incredible artist and you have other friends who are probably more worthy of your time than I am. I— I’m not — I don’t like the way that I look. And that’s fine. But the idea of you drawing me is just... “ he shrugs. But he doesn’t need to say anything else. And suddenly everything is crystal clear.

How he never likes to get his picture taken. How he always seems to crouch down, as if trying to make himself look smaller. How he always covers his smile with his hand when he’s happy. As if he didn’t want anyone to see it.

And it breaks Rey’s heart. Because how could he think that about himself?

“Ben, if you don’t want me to draw you then that’s fine. I won’t. But cut the self-deprecating bullshit, please.” She can’t help the way her voice cracks and suddenly, she has to fight the urge to cry.

“Rey, you don’t have to—"

“No. I mean that for fuck’s sake. The first time I saw you, _fuck_ , I remember thinking how much I’d love to paint you. You sort of look like a Renaissance statue made of fucking marble. I can’t fucking believe that you wouldn’t feel good about yourself! I mean, I know everyone is secretly self-conscious about _something_. God knows I am. But Ben, you are beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

“Rey, please don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” She knows that she shouldn’t push him. She knows she doesn’t want any to make him uncomfortable. But the idea that he doesn’t know how beautiful he is? It just makes her angry. Maybe irrationally so.

“You don’t have to try and make me feel better. I said it’s fine. I’m just—“

“I’m telling you the truth, Ben.”

“But it’s not. You can’t possibly think that of me.”

Oh God. _Oh God_. She would probably bitch slap him if she didn’t feel like her heart was breaking into a million pieces. So, she does the next best thing. She throws caution to the wind. Because he has to know. She has to tell him just how wrong he is. Because the idea that he wouldn’t love himself fucking _breaks_ her.

“But I do. I do think that, Ben. Look at yourself, you’re so tall, and built like a fucking brick house. Your body would probably give Michelangelo a hard-on. Any girl, any _guy_ would be lucky to get to climb you like a damn tree.” He’s shaking his head. But he finally, finally turns to her again. Even if he doesn’t meet her eyes.

“And your eyes? They look brown from afar. But they’re not. It’s like they’re not content with being just one color. No. They have to be two. Your outer irises are hazel, but sometimes they look green under the right light. And the part around your pupils? It’s a warmer color, somehow.” She smiles softly then, remembering the time she turned to Google just because she wanted to know why his eyes were like that. “I looked it up. It’s called central heterochromia and it’s— _amazing_. But it’s not just the color. Your eyes, they’re so expressive and—and beautiful Ben, I don’t know how else to say it.”

Even when his eyes finally snap up to her face, he still looks like a puppy with his head down.

“And those little moles on your face. I always find myself connecting then with my eyes. Like they’re forming constellations on your face or something. As insane as that sounds, I just can’t help it.” Her hands itch to touch them, to trace his constellations with her fingers. But she resists. “And your ears. You like to hide them under all that hair, but they still poke out sometimes. And they turn red when you’re nervous, or angry. They’re— kind of perfect. In your own Ben kind of way.” Because they are perfect. Perfect to her.

“And your hair. It looks like it’s made of silk. You know, when I first met you, I raided your bathroom trying to figure out what the fuck you do to it to make it look so soft. Imagine my disappointment when I only found regular shampoo instead of like 500 dollars’ worth of hair products.” She doesn’t know what it is that compels her to keep talking. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at her. Or maybe it’s that now that she’s allowed herself to tell him what she thinks of him, she can’t bring herself to stop. Not yet.

“And then there’s your smile. That one. You know it took nearly three months for me to see it. You were so broody in the beginning —not that I minded— but you didn’t smile much. And then there was that day I fell down the stairs at Rose’s place because I was wearing these ridiculous heels, and you freaked out because you thought I was hurt. But I couldn’t stop laughing. That was the first time I saw you smile. And it took my breath away because it was the first time I realized that you had _dimples_. As if I needed any more reasons to be infatuated with your mouth, you go and you have that smile that lights up the goddamn room.”

She stops talking then. Not because she’s run out of things to say. She could probably write her master thesis on all the things she loves about Ben. But because of the way Ben is staring at her now.

The way he’s looking at her— he looks so hurt.

Oh fuck.

_Oh fuck._

Of course he would be. Because Ben might be a lot of things but he’s not stupid. After everything she has just said, of course he would know how she feels about him. They’re friends. Best friends. Of course he doesn’t feel the same way about her. Of course he feels betrayed. 

And yet— she can’t find it in herself to feel regret about the words that just came out of her mouth. He deserves to know. He deserves to know that he’s so much more than he gives himself credit for.

But Rey can’t help the tears that are now threatening to spill down her cheeks. She drops her gaze away from his face. It’s too much. She can’t think. She can’t breathe. She needs to leave. She needs to leave before he tells her to. She needs to leave so she can think of a way to unfuck this up.

Jumping off the island, she mutters an apology that she herself can barely hear and bolts for the door. A sob is threatening to escape her mouth and if she could just make out the door before it does—

But then there’s a hand holding her wrist. It’s not a hard grip. She could pull away so easily, but she can’t. She can’t pull away from him. He needs to be the one to let her go.

“I need to go,” she says.

“No.”

“Ben, _please_.”

“No. You don’t get to say all those things and just walk away, Rey. It’s not fair.”

Fuck. She knows he’s right. She knows he deserves an explanation. If only just to confirm what he probably already knows.

She makes no attempts to move. She just stands there, looking at the floor. In a better world, she would enjoy the way his hand envelops her wrist, but this isn’t a better world. All she can do is hold her breath as her chest spasms painfully when she attempts to hold in the sobs she doesn’t want him to hear.

“I’m so sorry,” she says again. What else can she say?

“I don’t—I don’t understand, Rey.”

She looks up at the ceiling as if that will somehow make the moisture gathering on her eyes magically defy gravity.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I never told you how I felt. I didn’t want to lose you. I’ve tried to get over it, I really have, but you—" she closes her eyes then. If she’s going to tell him the truth, she’s going to tell him everything. Because he deserves to know. Because she has nothing left to lose. “You’ve made it so hard. With all your brooding and your lame fucking jokes and your books. Being around you just makes me happy. And the idea that you wouldn’t think yourself worthy of my time? It— it hurt me. Because I— I love you. So much.”

She can hear the way he sucks a breath in, the way his grip on her wrist tightens just a bit. It’s probably some sense of morbid curiosity that compels her to open her eyes and look at him.

He’s staring directly at her, eyes glassy, and a thousand emotions are playing on his face.

“You what?” his voice is barely above a whisper.

And she can’t believe she has to say it again. As if it didn’t hurt her to speak those three little words to someone who doesn’t feel them too.

“I love you,” she says. “I have loved you, almost since the beginning.”

“You— love me?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, looking away again. As if saying she’s sorry enough times will somehow fix things.

They stand in silence for a moment. Rey has nothing left to say. Ben is probably just trying to make sense of things. Or maybe he’s searching for the words to lay her down gently. He would try not to hurt her. He would do everything he could not to. That’s just the way Ben is.

His voice is so soft when he speaks again, it takes her a moment to take his words in.

“I love you, too.”

_Did he just?_

“W—what?”

“I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.”

Maybe her mind is playing cruel tricks in her. Maybe she’s just imagining Ben say the words she’s always wanted to hear but never dared hope she would.

But the way his eyes look at that moment tells her that it’s not her imagination.

He loves her.

They love each other.

“ _Oh_.”

That’s all Rey can think to say with her twenty years of experience speaking the English language.

She can’t help the fresh wave of tears that escape her then. The little self-conscious part of her tells her that she probably looks like shit right now. But she can’t find it in her heart to care.

So, she does what any woman in her shoes would do and she flings herself at him.

Ben Solo is a big man. He’s 6’3”. Weighs some 200 pounds. And as she previously pointed out, he is BUILT. But even then, he stumbles back when she jumps to wraps her arms around him to bury her face on his neck. He huffs in surprise, but it only takes two seconds for him to put his arms around her torso and just hold her to his chest. He’s breathing so fast, she thinks maybe he’s crying too.

All she wants to do is hold him tighter. She’s in his arms. He is in hers. And there is no place she’d rather be.

***

She doesn’t know how long she’s holding onto Ben until the oven beeps. Ah, she’d forgotten about the cookies.

“I have to get those,” he whispers, his voice raspy.

She nods, letting him go, even though every bone in her body screams in protest. As he walks around the kitchen island, she wipes all the tears away from her face with the sleeve of her shirt. She watches him turn the oven off and set the cookies to cool on the stovetop.

He turns to her again with a sort of uncertainty about him.

“What is it?” She asks him. He bites his bottom lip.

“I’ve tried so hard not to delude myself into thinking you could feel the same way about me that I do about you,” he says. “And to hear you say that you do, it just feels— surreal.”

She can’t help but smile. “It does.”

She walks around the kitchen island to stand in front of him again. He’s so tall and she’s standing so close, she has to crank her neck up to meet his eyes.

Not that she minds.

There’s a little smile playing at lips. And it dawns on her that she should do the thing that she’s wanted to do since the minute she laid eyes on him.

“Can I kiss you?” She whispers.

Ben’s little smile fades a bit and maybe there’s a little nervousness in his eyes, but he nods anyway. So, Rey reaches for his face and pulls him toward her.

She wonders how she could have gone a year missing out on this. His lips are gentle against her own, but it’s as though she can feel it all over her body. It’s dizzying. It’s perfect.

Then he wraps his arms around her again pulling her closer and Rey can’t help the way she smiles against his lips and then he’s smiling too and they both pull away because kissing and smiling like idiots don’t mesh well together. But he doesn’t let her go and she doesn’t want him to anyway and—

Whatever train of thought she was currently heading towards is suddenly interrupted when she sees them.

Those goddamn dimples.

She can’t help but run her thumbs over them. They’re so freaking adorable, and that smile... that smile is just for her and it takes her breath away. Just like it always does.

“I love you,” he whispers again. She rests her forehead against his.

“I love you too,” she whispers.

If their first kiss was soft and gentle, the second is anything but. They both lunge forward at the same time. Ben runs his hands down her back, making her gasp. The second her lips part, his tongue brushes against hers and _fuck_. It’s almost an instinct when she runs her fingers through his hair and pulls. Maybe she pulls a little harder than she intends to, but if the moan that escapes him is any indication, he doesn’t mind.

Next thing she knows, he’s lifting her off the ground simply by standing up straight. She wraps her arms around his neck, and then her legs around his hips and his hands are moving down her back and _oh_ —

It’s her turn to moan now. His hands are massive and they cover her ass so perfectly.

And then this man has the audacity to pull away.

She looks at him with a questioning look. His pupils are dilated and he’s breathing so hard now.

“I— I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I got a bit carried away,” he says. And yet, he doesn’t move to let her go.

She bites her lip.

“I don’t mind if you do,” she whispers. “Get carried away, I mean.”

He doesn’t say anything, though, and she can see there’s that nervousness playing in his eyes again. Shit. Maybe she’s coming on too strong. Maybe she’s already screwing this up.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. I’m sorry. I’m—I know this is a lot—“ she moves to unwrap her legs from him, but he holds her thighs still.

“Wait—” he whispers. “Shouldn’t— shouldn’t I take you out to dinner first?”

Oh.

“Like a date?”

He nods. She smiles. This man is going to kill her and she’s going to let him.

“You just made dinner and baked me cookies. Does that count as a date?” she asks. He frowns.

“I would have gotten you flowers.”

It’s physically impossible for her to smile more now. Because of course he would have. He is so soft Rey’s heart is going to fucking burst.

“An argument could be made that cookies are just as good as flowers.”

“Rey.”

“Ben.”

“I want to get you flowers.”

“Okay.”

Fortunately, Ben doesn’t seem to be in a rush to go get them. Because then he moves forward to capture her lips again.

It feels as though she is floating when he carries her to his bedroom. She feels dizzy when his lips travel from her mouth to the base of her throat and he sets her down on the bed. She can’t help but gasp at the way his hands travel up her sides toward her front. The way his palms are on her ribs as he rubs his thumbs back and forth against the underside of her breasts.

With one hand still grasping his hair at the nape of his neck, she shimmies her hand between them towards the first button of her blouse. That seems to pull Ben’s attention away from her neck. He watches her fingers work to undo the buttons one by one, slowly exposing the naked valley between her breasts. Rey is just glad she skipped out on a bra today.

His hand travels from her ribs to her collarbone, where he grazes the tips of his fingers up and down her sternum. Deep down, she knows he’s not trying to tease her. He’s just being the gentle, curious Ben he has always been. But by God, that motion is going to drive her insane.

As if on cue, Ben’s fingers travel sideways, pushing the fabric of her blouse until her chest is completely exposed to him. And when he finally, _finally_ brings his thumb to gently tug at her nipple, he looks as though he is admiring her. As though he is in awe of her. Rey’s heart is going to explode.

“You are,” he whispers. “So beautiful.”

This man is going to be the death of her.

She lets her hand slide from his hair to cup his cheek. “So are you.“

He is. He’s the most beautiful man she’s ever seen. But Ben bites his bottom lip and she knows he’s not convinced. And Rey resolves right then to do anything and everything in her power to show him. Starting now.

So she grabs his face and pulls him down to her and she begins kissing the corner of his mouth, the shell of his ear, his neck. Her hands slide down his back and under his sweater. The second her fingers graze his lower back, his hips buck forward, almost instinctively, and she can feel how _hard_ he is between her legs just before he pulls away to pull his sweater over his head.

Just like every time she’s seen him shirtless; she marvels at his impossibly carved he is. But now? Now it’s different. Now she gets to touch.

She might die. Death by a shirtless Ben Solo. There are worse ways to go.

And touch she does. Sitting up, she lays her hands on his chest. He sucks his breath in, almost shivering, and she presses soft kisses to his sternum as her hands go down, reaching the hem of his pants.

She turns her attention toward his belt then, unbuckling it. Then go his pants. The button goes first, then she traces the zipper with the tips of her fingers, enjoying the way his length presses against it, before she pulls it down slowly.

He tilts her chin up and kisses her one last time before pulling away to stand at the foot of the bed, his gaze never leaving hers. His pants barely hang onto his hips, his hair is positively wild, and Rey feels the heat pool in her lower belly because _holy shit._

His hands go to her hips then, where he rests them at the hem of her jeans as his thumbs caress the skin above.

“Can I... take these off?” His voice is barely above a whisper and yet it’s impossibly deeper than before.

“ _Please_.”

Maybe it’s just her imagination, but she thinks she sees his hands shaking just a bit as he works the button and the zipper. This big beautiful man is nervous, she realizes, just as she lifts her hips to allow him to pull her pants down her legs.

And because Rey is feeling bold, she spreads her legs for him. She wants him to see how wet she is for him even though he’s barely touched her. She wants him to see the dampness soaking through her underwear.

It makes Ben roll his jaw in that way he does sometimes. He puts his hands on her knees and runs them up her inner thighs, but he doesn’t touch her where she wants him to. Not yet.

Her hips buckle involuntarily against his hands. Her body knows it’s not enough.

“Ben... please.”

“Rey,” he warns.

Goddammit, his voice.

Finally, finally, he hooks his thumbs into her underwear and pulls it down her legs.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he rasps, running his hand through his hair. It makes Rey giggle.

He climbs up her body again, laying kisses up her abdomen, her chest, her neck. “Can I touch you?”

She nods, trying to suppress a smile. I mean really, who is she to deny him that? “Please.”

It makes her gasp, the way he runs his fingertips between her folds, barely grazing the spot where she wants them most. His touch is careful, exploring. He looks entranced by the image of his hand between her legs. Like he can’t believe that it’s there. To be fair, everything about this feels like a dream. And if it is, she never wants to wake up. Real life can go fuck itself.

“Rey,” he whispers under his breath. “You’re wet.”

He sounds surprised and she almost wants to laugh. She wonders when he’s going to start believing that this is happening. That she wants him. Communication suddenly seems like a very good idea. It’s gotten them this far, after all.

“Ben, I’ve never wanted anything in my life more than I want you.”

His eyes darken. His awed expression disappears under something else. Something more intense, desperate, _hungry._ She didn’t know it was possible to be so turned on by the way someone looks at you. It makes her insides ache.

He springs into action. His fingers now rubbing circles around her clit while occasionally teasing her entrance. _Jesus fuck_ , he’s such a tease. Or maybe she’s just impatient. 

“Ben, please, please put your fingers in me.”

“Fuck,” he says through gritted teeth. But no sooner has he said it that he complies. It’s only his index, but it’s enough to make Rey gasp as she rolls her hips against his hand. His fingers are so fucking thick. Damn.

“God, Ben.” She’s doesn’t know what she’s saying, or even if she wants to say anything at all. She just gasps softly with every swipe of his thumb against her clit, with every curl of his finger inside her. And then he adds another, _Fuck fuck fuck!_

“Ben, oh my god, I love your hands,” she gasps. “I’ve thought about this so many times.” She doesn’t know where her words are coming from. It doesn’t matter though. She just wants him to know.

“I’ve—I’ve thought about this too. Rey, you have no idea.”

“I think I might.” Her giggle is interrupted by the way his fingers seem to start curling just a little more, hitting that spot inside her that makes her mind turn to mush. He repeats that motion, and he keeps doing so until the tension begins to build up deep inside.

“D—Do you think you can take another finger, Rey?” She just nods. She’s almost there. In the end, it’s the stretch of his ring finger that does her in. It’s almost too much and just enough. She comes with his name on her lips as he grasps onto his shoulders, and his neck, and his hair. 

She stays like that, lying next to him for a minute. He seems content just watching her as she comes down from her high.

His hair looks positively disheveled and his mouth is a little swollen from all the kissing they’ve been doing. She kisses him again just to feel his soft lips against hers. 

She lays back, pulling him with her so that his body covers hers completely. Her hands sneak into his pants, where she begins stroking his length over his boxer briefs. He sucks a breath in but doesn’t stop kissing his way down her jaw towards the spot below her ear.

“Ben, I’m going to—need you to take your pants off, please.” He stops kissing her neck for a second and places a soft peck on her cheek. It’s such a small thing. It should be nothing, really, but that little peck makes her just as giddy as everything they’ve just done.

He pulls away from her, standing at the side of the bed as he pushes his pants and briefs down his legs.

It seems that, like the rest of him, Ben’s dick is perfectly huge. And Rey gasps. _Holy fucking shit._ How is this man even real?

Ben might mistake her sudden giddiness with nerves, because all of a sudden, a worried expression crosses his face. “I’m—are you alright? Is this okay? We don’t—”

“Ben,” she says, snapping him out of whatever rabbit hole his mind was heading down. “It’s so much more than okay. Come here, please.”

He nods, but then he starts looking around his room. “Hang on a sec. I need—I have condoms here somewhere.” He goes to his nightstand, pulling out the drawer with more force than necessary as he searches inside.

“Ben?”

“I’m sure I have some. Somewhere.”

“Ben.”

“Shit, I just gotta—"

“ _Ben_.”

He finally turns to her. She’s laying on her side with her head resting on her arm.

“I have an IUD. I’m clean.”

“Oh.”

“We don’t need to use a condom. Unless you want to. That’s okay too. I’m just saying—”

Ben’s brain seems to be short-circuiting. “I—I’m clean too. But, Rey, are you sure?”

She is sure. She’s never not used a condom before, but this is _Ben_. “I’d like to feel you.”

“Okay.”

He crawls back on top of her. He stares at her face for a moment and she finds that she doesn’t mind it. It means she gets to look at him too. She lifts her hands to his face and cradles his cheeks, letting her thumbs softly caress the spots where his dimples appear when he smiles. He rests one hand on the side of her head as he positions his body between her legs.

“Are you—”

She loves that he still asks. She loves that he doesn’t assume. She loves how much she cares about making sure she’s alright. She loves him. “Yes.” It’s all she has to say. She gets a funny feeling that she will say yes to any question he ever asks her.

He reaches down to where her legs are spread to accommodate him. She doesn’t look away from his face as he aligns himself with her. He doesn’t either. But when he finally pushes in, neither of them can keep their eyes open anymore.

Her hands find her way down his back just as he buries his face at the crook of her neck. His pace is slow and gentle as he buries himself to the hilt and Rey has never felt so perfectly full in her life. But still, she is only human. And not even three of his fingers could have prepared her for all that is Ben Solo. “Give me a minute. You’re really big and—”

“Are you okay?” he asks, cutting her off before she could say.

“I’m perfect,” she breathes. It only takes a moment for the feeling of that stretch to reside and the need for him to move suddenly becomes too much to bear. She rolls her hips against him experimentally, and yes, she is most definitely ready now.

“You can m—move now.”

And move he does. His pace is slow at first. His mouth is on her neck, half kissing her, half breathing her in. And Rey can’t help the way her nails scratch down his back. Because his slow thrusts are too much and not nearly enough.

That is, until he reaches a spot inside her that makes her gasp his name. And next thing she knows he’s pushing her knees towards against her chest so he can lift her hips against his at just a slightly different angle and Rey starts seeing stars. (Who knew that was a real thing?)

She gets to see his face at this new angle. And when his eyes meet hers again, she sees that they’re shining. It’s not until she feels a tear slide up down her temple into her hairline that she realizes she’s crying too. He leans forward and presses his lips against her eyes and temples, kissing away whatever moisture has built up there and it only makes her want to cry more.

Maybe it’s the way she starts moaning sounds she doesn’t think she ever has, or maybe it’s the way she’s clenching around him almost involuntarily—either way, Ben decides he’s not going to go so gentle anymore. 

His new pace is almost desperate. Like he was holding himself back but can’t anymore. One of his hands moves to the headboard to keep himself balanced while the other moves between them to start tracing circles around her sensitive bud, and all she can do is try her best to hang on to him while that heat inside builds up again and she’s coming around him as she says his name over and over again.

“Christ, _Rey_ ,” he groans, kissing her neck one last time before his thrusts become more erratic and forceful and she feels the way he spills deep inside her. 

He stays on top of her, face buried on her shoulder while she runs her hands up and down his back.

“Holy shit,” he says after a while. Rey giggles and tugs at his hair so he raises his head and she can kiss his perfect mouth again.

He pulls away to lie next to her, resting his head on his elbow. His eyes are still a little red and his hair is a complete mess and his lips are swollen and he’s never looked more beautiful than he does right now. She traces his collarbone with the tips of her fingers, perfectly content to do just that for a while. Even if cookies are waiting for her in the kitchen. They can wait.

She moves her hand up his neck towards his face. His eyes flutter closed as she traces the line of his jaw, his temple, and the space between his eyebrows where a little wrinkle forms when he frowns. Then she moves to his nose, to his cheeks, his mouth. He leans into her touch as he opens his eyes, and his lips tremble a little, but he smiles. That big toothy smile that takes her breath away.

“ _Dimples,”_ she breathes, unable to keep a smile off her face.

“I like yours better,” he says, raising a hand to cup her cheek too.

What’s Rey to do but kiss him again? Then she snuggles up to him, resting her head on his chest. The soft sound of his beating heart making her sleepy. 

When he speaks again, it’s just a whisper, as if he’s afraid he’ll wake her up if she’s already fallen asleep. “Rey?”

“Yeah?” her voice is soft too. She doesn’t want to disturb their little bubble.

“I can— I’ll help you with your assignment.” She raises her head to rest her chin on his chest so that she can see his face.

“Really?” she asks. “Because I meant what I said earlier. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I don’t want to make you— uncomfortable or anything.” It’s true. As much as she’d love to draw his face, she could never do it if it wasn’t something he wanted.

He seems to search her face for a second. “I want to help you,” he says in the end.

She smiles softly at him. She knows he hasn’t changed his mind about himself. His self-image is not something she can fix overnight. But she also knows he is beautiful. And she thinks she might spend the rest of her life helping him see it too. The most terrifying thing about that thought is how not terrifying it is. She falls asleep with her head on his chest while he traces soft circles on her back. She doesn’t hear him when he whispers again.

“I’d let you draw me every single day if it ends like this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Was this fic basically my love letter to Adam Driver's dashing good looks? Yes. Yes it was. 
> 
> Happy September!


End file.
